


Oysters (Part One)

by Sookiestark



Series: He Who Tastes Love Never Dines Alone [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Food, Food Sex, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Oysters, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:17:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Lord Gendry and Lady Arya reconnect over oysters.





	Oysters (Part One)

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written an Arya/Gendry story... However, I imagine if Gendry is legitimized and becomes Lord of Storm's End, he will need a great deal of assistance since he was never raised in a castle. More importantly to the story, how will Arya come back to being a person who can be okay with resuming a relatively normal life when she has been consumed with revenge and murder. I read a really good article about how no one in ASOIAF ends well if all they seek is bloodshed or revenge. 
> 
> I hope Arya has a happy ending but I have a feeling that it will be complicated and I see her having plenty of things she may have to overcome
> 
> Anyway, oysters have long been seen as a food associated with sex, whether it is a rumored aphrodisiac or their appearance... 
> 
> Of course, in Braavos, Arya sold oysters... And poisoned people with oysters..

Gendry didn't really understand what made him ask her. He thinks it might have been nostalgia or the joy of being alive after the horrors of war. When the sun broke the battlefield, he remembered being surprised to still be alive and he was even more surprised to see Arya beside him. She had disappeared shortly after he had arrived at Winterfell. For her to return, at this moment, seemed precipitous.

In his big arms, he had hugged her tightly, saying her name, half laughing at the joy and relief. Arya had seemed distant as if she was a stranger but her eyes recognized him as if she was acting a part. In his happiness, Gendry had shrugged it off. Impulsively, as the people cheered, Gendry had asked her, "Arya, my lady,... The Queen has legitimized me, made me Lord of Storm's End. Come with me. Once you said you wanted to be my family. Be my family. Come with me to Storm’s End. Help me." 

Arya had smiled and kissed him, "Yes."

But she had the looked at him with the strange look of someone who did not think of joy anymore.

However, though the kiss had all the heat of his forge's fire, Gendry had this strange feeling from her, as if this was not her truly, but a mask she wore. Riding on the excitement of winning an unwinnable war, he had acted impulsively and continued further. Later, Gendry would wonder if it was to see if the old Arya would emerge from this strange woman. "Arya ...Marry me!" 

She seemed confused and spoke, "I do not know if I will marry you but I will go to the stormlands. We can see what happens."

He had expected joy, a smile, laughter Instead, her concession was as warm as a business deal. 

Gendry had thought about rescinding the offer.

He had spent the entire trip to the stormlands thinking that he regretted asking her. Over the years, he had thought of her and how their reunion might be. In his fantasies, she was a scrawny, scrappy, girl who had big grey eyes and once broke his heart by asking him to stay with her. Instead of a slightly traumatized skinny girl, there was a frightening woman grown who seemed cold and removed from the joys and troubles of mortals, the slayer of House Frey, this cold-blooded killer.

Gendry had asked her because he had thought about her for all these years, leaving her fighting in the Riverlands. He knew he had thought if he took her from the North where there had been so much death and pain, she might heal and become that sweet girl who had followed him around like a puppy. Of course, now when she followed him he felt like she was a wolf and he was the prey as if he was being stalked. 

Sometimes people could not recover from the trauma and death. He had seen some of these people in Winterfell and as they made their way south, they saw more and more of them. Lord Davos had offered to go with Gendry and show him the castle of Storm's End. The affable man had said, "At least, until you get settled."

When they arrived at the castle, Gendry had never felt more confused or uncomfortable. Everything he did or said seemed wrong. He was certain he had made the wrong decision coming here but Ser Davos had told him he had done fine and left him to his dinner. The first night, he had eaten a quiet dinner, just him and Arya, in the giant empty keep of Storm's End. Arya had been quiet, eating little. Tentatively, he had wanted to ask her what was wrong but he could not face another failure so Gendry did not speak to her. Arya had done nothing to break the difficult silence. 

 

That night, Arya had crawled in bed with him. She had been naked and had pressed her backside against him in the most delicious way. Whispering she was frightened, Arya had wrapped one arm around his neck and taken her free hand and wrapped it around his cock. Gendry had kissed her, wondering what could frighten her. She was terryfing. When she climbed on top of him, any other thoughts left his head. 

When Gendry woke, she was dressed and in the yard watching the men practice. They spent a week like this, awkward days filled with long silences where she watched him with alien, unfamiliar eyes and nights where she would come to his bed filled with passion. However affectionate Arya might be in the night, she never seemed to bring any of her passion into any of their stilted conversations in the day. Gendry thought he might be going crazy and he could not believe these two people were the same. It seemed she was a riddle and he would never understand her. In the firelight, Gendry had noticed the scars all over her body and wondered what had happened and how she had survived. Sometimes, she would cry in her sleep. He would pull her close but they never spoke of any of this in the daylight. 

At the end of the first week, the head cook of Storm's End came to him while he was in his room eating breakfast with Arya. "My lord, one of the fisherman found a bunch of oysters. Perhaps, you might have them for lunch." 

Gendry was about to tell the man he would not be eating the things when Arya interrupted his thoughts. As soon as the man spoke about oysters, Arya piped up full of questions about whether they were cockles, mussels, or truly oysters, where were they caught, and how deep the water was here they were gathered. Arya's eyes were bright with excitement and it surprised him, pleasantly. Gendry had not seen her so animated in years and he caught himself smiling with wonder. Perhaps, Arya’s true calling was a fishwife. 

So at lunch, they sat at the large dark table that was probably ancient when Argilliac the Arrogant sat here. Instead of sitting at opposite ends, she sat closer, cross-legged in her chair. Speaking as they brought out trays of the oysters over ice, the servants brought bread, butter, seasoned potatoes and pitchers of ale. 

Arya ate four oysters in quick succession and sighed a deep noise of satisfaction. In her blue plaid dress, she wore her hair in a simple braid, Gendry thought she was lovely. For a second, he thought how he had never seen her naked in the daylight and what she would look naked on this table. Quickly, he pushed the thought from his mind.

Since they left Winterfell, Arya had been wearing dresses, simple pretty things, with plenty of space to run or fight. He had wanted to ask her why such simple things and not the ornate gowns the ladies of her station might wear. He wondered if she thought them too expensive for him to afford but Gendry would look at her and the question would die on his tongue. 

They were finishing the first pitcher of ale. Gendry was on his second slice of bread and cheese when Arya gathered her skirts and moved to sit beside him. "Taste one. Gendry, they are delicious. I sold these in Braavos. I would not poison you."

At this, Arya laughed and her laugh made Gendry feel strange. "Taste one. You will like it. I promise." 

Exposed and pale, the oysters lay gently, moist on their decorative shells. Gendy was skeptical that such things would be delicious.

He drained another pitcher. Arya smiled and helped him. But she came back to it. Speaking in a tone half teasing, Arya held one out to tempt him, "Gendry, I ate these so often. You will be fine. Just one. Please for me."

Arya never teased him, never played, never laughed. Eating oysters at this giant table, she was once again the girl he left behind with the Brotherhood. He touched her face and took the shell, "For you, Arya."

The new Lord of Storm's End lifted a shell to his lips, and a bit overwhelmed, put it back down on his plate.

Arya laughed, playfully and climbed to sit on top of the table beside the plate of oysters, "Let me show you."

Gendry watched her, the dress pulled around her thighs and her calves bare. He smiled and wondered what she would look like naked on this table. Pushing the thought from his head, he wanted her to stay like this, open, playful, stubborn, vulnerable, human. Arya drained her glass and poured herself another. Gendry followed her direction. His eyes locked on her lips. 

Taking one of the oysters, she put it near his lips. Directing him, her lips curled in an almost smile, "Suck it down, my Lord."

Gendry laughed, "My Lord?"

Arya nodded giggling slightly. "Suck it down, Gendry."

He looked into her eyes unsure and she nodded, reassuringly. Taking another oyster with her other hand, she slurped one tossing the shell onto the table, and then another. Laughing, she nodded, "Now, you..."

Gendry realized how much he liked her laugh and slurped the oyster down. 

It tasted clean, a tang of salt, and of the ocean. The thing itself was slippery like it was a muscle, but not tough. However, in a small swallow, it was gone in his throat.

With girlish glee, Arya clapped and handed him another. Toasting him, they drained their glasses in the sunlight. The sun hit the girl on the table before him and Gendry marveled at Arya. It was as if his old friend came back, but more beautiful. He had a strange feeling that this was a dream and he would wake up back on the Streets of Steel. Gendry did not know if it was the oysters, the wine or the familiarity, but there was a light in her eyes, a mischievous girl-look.

Arya stretched one of her legs out and her toes almost touched him. 

Her legs, pale and exposed, on the dark table.

Gendry took her foot in his hand and began to rub it, absently. Finally, he asks her, "Arya, why do you wear dresses, now?" She looks at him. For a second, he feels her muscles pull at her foot but he keeps it firmly in his hands. Silently, he curses himself, thinking he has frightened her and now she will retreat. But, Arya does not retreat. She looks back at him, unblinking, "I don't know. I hated dresses for so long. But the whole time I was on the road, I would think about my Mother. How all she wanted was me to wear dresses and how if I could, I would not fight with her as much. She only loved me and the dresses weren't always so bad. Sometimes, they were pretty. I remember there were times I thought I would never return and I would certainly die out there. I was so alone. All I could think of was Mother and the stupid dresses. So, when I returned, I thought I would try and wear them... I thought you would like it if I looked a bit more like a lady." 

Gendry stands up, pulling her gently toward him. Her eyes are huge. As if to distract him, she picks up an oyster, "Gendry, let's play a game I saw them play at a brothel in Braavos. It looks like it might be fun...

Arya laughs to see all the questions on his face, "Ask them later, Gendry. Let's play." 

Never touching the oyster's shell, Gendry leaned over the oyster and sucked it down. Putting his hands on her back, he gathered her to the end of the table, standing between her thighs. Looking down briefly, he noticed how high her skirt was. Tracing her jaw, Gendry looked in her eyes, Arya was there still, grey eyes, sad, scared, happy. "Arya, I will play all the games you want, oyster games, ale games, bed games. I will do all you ask. But before that. I need you to promise me. Promise me you will stay with me. Like this. I cannot take away what you have seen or done, the things you know... but I want you. Not that other person you wear like a mask. But you, Arya Stark, my lady and my family." 

Arya kissed him and he could taste oysters and ale. Biting his bottom lip gently, she nodded, "Yes...I will try and stay here."

Gendry picked up two oysters, handing her one and keeping one in his hand. He tipped the shell toward her like it was a glass and they were toasting. 

"I think you are right, Arya. I think the taste has grown on me... Now, what was this game you want to play?" Gendry asked as he lifted her skirts higher.


End file.
